


Elide and Lorcan

by starofvelaris



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Elide, Elorcan, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Lorcan - Freeform, Smut, Terrasen, Throne of Glass, fae, smutty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 02:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14033760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starofvelaris/pseuds/starofvelaris
Summary: Lorcan was trying. He really was.Elide watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye as she helped the servants arrange autumnal garlands on the bannister of the stone staircase in the great hall. She watched him go out of his way to offer help where he could, hanging banners and nailing décor.And she tried not to let it distract her.Tried.





	Elide and Lorcan

Lorcan was trying. He really was.

Elide watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye as she helped the servants arrange autumnal garlands on the bannister of the stone staircase in the great hall. She watched him go out of his way to offer help where he could, hanging banners and nailing décor.

And she tried not to let it distract her.

Tried.

There was to be a feast that night to celebrate the first harvest for the kingdom made anew, the first proper banquet that Orynth had seen in too many years. The summer had long surrendered to the wave of autumn in Terrasen’s mountains, and the castle was nestled in a sea of gold and crimson trees. The chill in the air seemed to strike overnight, the cool mists clinging to the windowpanes like an ever-present shroud. The castle was a commotion of tables being run to the great hall and garlands of evergreen, sprigs of the last of the summer berries and golden leaves being hung from every bannister and archway. And Lorcan was in the midst of it all, hammering hooks for wreaths, and making himself useful.

It had been a hard-won battle to reach this moment of peace and joy, and Elide knew not one of them would ever be the same, not really. But they had survived, and they were making their kingdom a home.

And she found herself not really seeing what was in front of her as she tied those garlands up, not really hearing the chattering of the servants beside her, as she tried not to think about him…tried not to think about why her heart soared at the sight of him, that towering demi-fae…tried not to think about the way he smiled kindly at the servants, the way his charcoal eyes met hers every now and again. And she tried not to think about that question she saw within his eyes each time they did.

She had not yet returned to fully speaking to Lorcan. She had known it would take time to find forgiveness for what he had done, to Aelin and her, to them all. The betrayal had stung worse than any physical pain, had hurt her deeper than anyone had before. She had refused to speak to him, save for the cordial necessities of settling into the castle and taking on their new roles in Aelin’s court. But he had proven himself worthy during that battle…when everything happened. He had made a sacrifice…killing Maeve had torn him apart from the inside out, and she suspected he would never fully heal from the pain of it, having been under such a hold for so long. But he was trying. Trying to move on, to prove his loyalty. And Elide was trying, too.

But she had not given in completely, not yet.

Some time later, Elide had just finished off a table to her liking and was staring at it in appraisal, bedecked in candlesticks and crystal goblets, when a warm presence interrupted her reverie. She twirled slowly, half-expecting to find someone shooing her away from the flurry of preparation, as they often did when she insisted on helping. But instead of a bristled servant, she found Lorcan, standing cautious and aloof. But he was not staring at the table, like she had been. He was staring at her.

“Lorcan,” she said politely, if not a bit tersely, giving a nod of her head. She clasped her arms behind her back, as if afraid of what they might do…might reach for.

His face was unreadable as he nodded back. His mouth parted for a moment as she waited for him to speak, to say whatever was on the tip of his tongue.

“The queen has requested your presence in her library,” he said tensely.

“Oh?” Elide rose her chin to meet his eyes. She tried to hide her surprise at him not only being Aelin’s messenger, but her thinking to entrust him with the message.

“Good,” was all she could think to reply.

A pause, her hands still clasped tightly behind her. She noticed he had pulled back his long hair in some kind of knot and had trimmed his short beard a bit. He looked almost dashing standing there in his pale grey doublet and shining leather boots. A true courtier. She almost missed the sight of him armed to the teeth with his ax and knives, that loose white shirt he had cut into strips for her…she shook the memory from her mind.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep her waiting,” Elide said with a sharp exhale, making to step around him.

He caught her elbow before she could, but his clutch was gentle. He leaned in behind her, so that his lips were at her ear.

“It is…good to talk to you, Elide,” he breathed into her ear, almost pleading in his tone. She knew, just knew, that one word from her would render him powerless and kneeling on the floor. That she could have him begging for forgiveness again. She could take out any lingering anger, and make him work for it. But any thought of repentance was swept from her mind as she found herself loosening at the sound of her name on his lips.

“It is good to see you, Mister Salvaterre,” she replied, without turning to meet his stare. She stiffened herself. She would not give in that easily. Not yet.

She broke from his touch and headed briskly for the library without a backward glance.

Elide climbed the seemingly endless flights of stairs up to the grand Library of Orynth, trying her best to get a rhythm on the steps despite her limp. When she finally entered the palatial archives, she found her queen lounging on a sage colored settee, the fading sun reflecting off her golden hair as she read a thick volume with yellowed pages.

“My Elide!” Aelin exclaimed warmly when she noted her arrival, hopping up swiftly and setting the book down. Elide eyes spied the Queen’s consort mate, the imposing but generous Fae warrior Rowan, lurking in the shadow of the stacks, never far from his queen’s side. She gave him a quick nod in greeting.

“You wanted to see me, Your Highness?” Elide asked.

“Call me Aelin, for the last time,” Aelin said seriously, before continuing. “I have a gift for you,”

“A gift?” Elide repeated, somewhat dumbstruck. She could not recall the last time anyone had given her a gift. “For what?”

Something changed in Aelin’s face, some flicker of emotion Elide couldn’t place, as she reached behind her.

“I wanted to give you something for the feast tonight,” She brought forth a box from where it had been sitting on a table behind her. It was wrapped modestly, with a single crimson ribbon.

Elide took it, trying not to let the confusion show on her face.

“Why?” she asked, still a bit awestruck. Aelin had given her more than enough. She had given her a home.

“You’ll see,” Aelin said softly.

With shaking hands, Elide carefully unwrapped the paper and gasped.

“Do you like it?” Aelin asked impatiently, watching her face closely.

Elide let the gift fold out into her arms. It was a delicate gown of deepest red velvet, the fabric spilling out into her arms like honeyed wine. There was a stag emblem stitched across the bodice and intricate golden embroidery wrapped around each arm, depicting vines and flowers. Elide looked back to her queen, agape and grateful.

“Thank you, your majesty-”

“Aelin, Elide,”

But Elide ignored the interjection as she continued to marvel at the gown. “It is beautiful, but…why are you giving this…to me?”

Aelin paused for a moment, biting her lip slightly. “We think it was your mother’s,” she said finally, gently. “It was discovered among some of my parents old things in a chamber in the royal wing, untouched after so many years.”

Elide just stared at the velvet fabric as she ran it through her fingers. Her mother’s…

“But with the fitting, and the embroidering here,” Aelin prattled on nervously, showing her a landscape stitched into bodice, showing a mountain scene with a lake…Perranth. “…and the fact that it is consistent with the style of Marion’s position at the time…means, it had to have been hers and-”

Elide didn’t let her finish as she held back a sob and embraced Aelin tightly, murmuring her thanks over and over again. Aelin only laughed with silver lined eyes as she hugged her back.

“I thought you would like to have it,” Aelin said. “Some piece of her,”

Eldie was speechless.

“Wear it at the feast. You’ll take their breath away,” Aelin continued with a wink after a moment.   
And Elide promised she would.

Elide stood in front of the mirror later that evening, marveling at the way the lush velvet fabric of the gown fell across her form. Not the form of a meek, helpless child, but of a woman; one with generous curves and a biting tongue…a lady with the elegant confidence to wear such a gown and not balk at the power it gave her, a lady with the posture of one who had a right to be in the room. In this palace. A member of this court.

Still not quite believing it, she examined the gown’s fit. She noted the length, how well it complimented her slight frame, at the tapering of the sleeves that came to a point on the top of her hands. She stared at herself in the mirror again, wondering how much of her mother stared back. She had long since lost all memory of her, the way she looked, the sound of her voice. But for a moment, as she stood enveloped in something that had been hers, she felt her beside her.

Later, when night had fully fallen, Elide took a long breath. It was time for the feast. Some part of her felt nervous, suddenly. But she waved the feelings away as she steeled herself for the long walk down to the great hall.

Elide stepped rapidly, if not a bit shakily, down the stairs, trying to keep her mind from the one person she knew would be there looking for her.

The great hall was alight with merriment, candles blazing amongst the garlands, music echoing off the cavernous ceiling, the smell of a rich feast wafting through everything.

Elide spied many familiar faces, and even more unfamiliar ones. She weaved her way slowly through the crowd, smiling in greeting to those she passed. She eagerly took a large goblet of deepest red ale from the tray of a wandering servant. She sipped deeply, and probably much too quickly. But, there would be other times for restraint and sobriety.

In the flurry of passing and dancing guests, Elide wandered a bit aimlessly, just enjoying the feeling of celebration. Such a foreign taste on the tongue after months of strife.

She felt the wooziness of drunkenness settle in, so much so that when a charming young man asked her to be his partner in a dance, she obliged without hesitation. And the stumbling through the steps and giggling with him brought her more amusement than she anticipated, so she stayed for nearly a half hour.

But after what seemed like the fifth dance, she broke away, breathless and flushed, thanking him and insisting on taking a breather. Despite his desperate pleas for more.

Smiling to herself, she wove out of the crowd to a less inhabited corner of the hall, squeezing her way to get a breath of air, clutching newly filled goblet of ale, not really looking where she was walking until—

She caught sight of the tall, broad form of a very disgruntled looking demi-fae. Staring intently at her.

She saw his throat bob nervously, sensed the way he straightened up slightly as she approached. But his arms were tensely crossed, his face unreadable.

“Mister Salvaterre,” she nodded her head politely and swept past him, taking a long sip from her goblet as she did. She settled into the corner and busied herself with looking intently fascinated by a marble statue of some old king.

“Elide,” she heard his voice beside her. She tried not to flinch, tried not to reveal how much she wanted to give him a smile, a greeting. But she found herself stricken with…what? Fear? Nerves?

Elide cursed herself just as he hissed, “If you’re just going to give me the silent treatment for the rest of my days, then I won’t bother myself with this damned castle,”

He turned to leave, face reddened in some combination of anger and embarrassment, but Elide flung out her hand to grasp onto his, pulling him back.

“I wanted to—” he stopped short and huffed a sharp sigh of frustration. “I thought—”

The triumphant yell of bugles drowned out any next words she would have offered, as Aelin and Rowan made their formal entrance. Cheers and clapping filled the halls at the sight of their queen, and the crowd pressed in, filling up from all areas of the adjacent chambers, trapping the two of them in that corner.

So Elide and Lorcan were forced to clap along, as they beheld their rulers, before them all on the staircase landing. Aelin was clothed in the rightful wears she deserved to be adorned with; regal golden crown, fur-lined cape, and shining scepter. Elide couldn’t help feel overwhelmed at the sight of them standing there like two shining, eternal flames.

But she found herself not really hearing the ceremonial speech her queen offered, nor did Elide react to the raucous cheers that proceeded it. She resisted the urge to look up at Lorcan, who stood stiller than rock beside her as they waited for the crown to disperse. But she kept her eyes trained on the crowd, biting down on her lip so hard it drew blood.

“If you’d rather me leave, you only have to say the word,” Lorcan said softly, so only she could hear, as a path back to the dance floor opened back up. Elide’s heart strained at the pain she heard within his voice, buried there amongst the frustration.

“Lorcan—” she started, but he was already gone.

The remainder of the feast passed in a blur. Whether from the ale or her disappointment, she wasn’t sure. She barely spoke to any others, even the young man when he begged for more dancing.

Later, well into the depths of the night when the party had all but subsided and Elide was left only with a headache and sore feet, did she slump back towards her room.

And after what seemed like hours of shivering in her bedclothes, alone in that massive bed in that massive chamber, she realized sleep would not come.

Really, it was unnecessary for a woman of her stature to be given such a large bed, and she had meant to tell Aelin as much but her queen had been so excited to bestow her such fine chambers that Elide couldn’t bring herself to refuse. No matter how many times she told herself, lying there in the darkness, that she was no longer trapped, was free with her queen, the nightmares still intruded. The rounded walls of the tower room suddenly felt sickening familiar, so like the room that had been her prison. So like the place that still haunted her.

She threw back the thick blankets and didn’t bother find a robe or even slippers as she sprung from her bed. She wasn’t sure where she would go, but anywhere would be better than there. Not with her thoughts intruding.

She took the winding staircase outside her door upward three floors and back into the main wing, that voice in her head edging her towards where she knew Lorcan had been assigned chambers. She wanted to chastise that voice for such assumptions, tell it that she would not act so foolishly.

But somehow, after a short walk along the richly carpeted corridor, lit dimly with low-flamed torches, she found herself standing in front of his door.

And more shocking still, she found herself opening it, not bothering to knock. But something drew her there, like the pull of wind in a sail. Unstoppable and pulled taut.

She thought she might have heard that voice chuckle in satisfaction. But she waved it away.

As she stepped into the room, she stopped short, in panic. For some reason, the thought had not occurred to her before that he could have a female inside or perhaps would be in another state of…indecency. What she would do if she found him…accompanied? What a damned fool she had been.

She backed a step, ready to run the whole way back if she had to. But, her eyes adjusted, and she saw only one form slumbering in the bed. So she quietly, softly, stepped forward again.

The fire in the hearth had long burned out, and she wondered how he could possibly stand the chill. The window on the far wall had been left open, the dampness glistening in the moonlight. Elide clicked her tongue, her concern overcoming her reluctance, and softly padded over and pulled the thick pane of leaded glass shut, silently cursing him for being so negligent. When she passed the hearth, she bent and carefully used a low burning candle to coax what was left of the embers back to flame.

She turned back to the bed once she’d finished and watched him for a heartbeat; her eyes marked the way the starlight hit the planes of his face, so soft and unassuming in sleep. She fought the tug of her lips as she rounded back to the bed, hoisted herself up, and nestled down beneath the covers.

His warmth and scent hit her like a wave, and she tried to ignore the way it comforted her…reminded her of the night she had been wrapped in him…the night on the swamps that had been both a beginning and an ending.

His form, facing away from her, slouched and tranquil in that deep slumber, was tall and broad, so unlike her own delicate frame. She let herself settle into the mattress, but stayed near the side of the bed, not wanting to disturb him, yet part of her wished he would wake up. If just so she could hear his voice. But no, she swallowed and sighed and let the steady sound of his breathing lull herself to sleepiness, reveling in the halo of warmth that hovered around his body. She resisted the urge to nestle closer to him.

Lorcan stirred suddenly, groaning as he awoke and shifted in bed. Elide, panicking, immediately cursed herself for her brazen stupidity and braced herself. Perhaps this had been a terrible idea, perhaps he wanted nothing to do with her anymore, perhaps…

“Elide?” his low, hoarse voice met her ear. She turned back to meet his sleepy eyes, and saw confusion flashed across his face as he jerked backward slightly, taking her in…taking her nightgown in, her bare shoulders, her mussed hair.

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged, biting back the anxiety in her voice.

Lorcan took a moment to consider the words. “So you came…here…to my bed,”

Her eyebrows stitched together in that insolent, clever expression he had no doubt become so used to.

“Yes,” she replied shortly, laying her head back down in to the pillow. “ _And_?”

“I would have thought you would be sharing that young man’s bed tonight. You certainly shared his dancing well enough,” he grunted.

Elide could have slapped him, her brows furrowing into a deadly frown.

A smile twitched at Lorcan’s lips, smug satisfaction at her reaction.

“I have no interest in him,” she turned up her chin, though she kept those clever eyes on his. “And I did not come to share a bed…in that way,”

Something passed through Lorcan’s eyes. Was it disappointment?

“No, I..” Elide faltered, a slight pleading within her face. “I could not sleep. Not there in that tower. Not tonight,” A knowing look crossed Lorcan’s face at that. She did not need to continue, did not need to bear her scars to him. He knew. He had always known.

So, without reply, he merely held out a broad russet hand to hers. And she let it envelope her own, knowing that whatever had passed between them at the feast, whatever petty anger and indignation remained would be set aside.

For a moment, Elide almost let herself admire his endless patience…where he got it from, only the gods could know.

She pursed her lips before scooting closer to him on the mattress, closing her eyes again in the safety of his closeness. And he let her.

No more teasing, no more bickering. Just the two of them, together.

Some hours later, dawn had begun to reach the valley when a continual pattering of a morning rainstorm on the windowpane woke her. She startled as she awoke, forgetting for a moment where she was. But when she came to, she quietly crept from the bed, leaving Lorcan in a deep sleep beside her. She borrowed a long tunic from his trunk, draping it over her nightgown like a robe. And then she was gone.

The next week was filled with more of the same, her climbing wordlessly into the bed beside him each night, curling up in the crook of his massive form, letting the warmth of their shared heat soothe her into a deep sleep. And he allowed it, feigning disapproval each time she crawled to him, but letting her steal his warmth all the same. And every morning, she awoke to his arms around her. And every morning she wordlessly unfolded herself from him and returned to her own chamber.

Elide could feel her energy returning, her mood lifting more with each passing day. She helped Aelin with anything she could, as the castle continued its flurry of activity and buzz with the newness of it all. A court, a kingdom, to look after. A place to belong.

She could see the home forming all around her. See it in the faces of the courtiers she passed, hear it in the laughter of children in the city below.

But still, she could not bring herself to go back to her tower bedchambers.

The ninth night she found herself avoiding that room was different, however.

She had finally felt so well-rested that the thought of sleep at all seemed as unappealing as a cold shower.

And sleep indeed was the last thing on her mind as Elide again walked through the heavy wooden door to Lorcan’s chamber. It was earlier in the evening than usual, but a storm raged outside that blackened the sky and sent streams of chilled wind blasting through the cracks in the walls and windows.

Elide walked in through Lorcan’s door, fully expecting him to be deeply asleep by this late hour. But when she entered the chambers, she found him sitting up in bed, the hearth’s embers bright enough to cast an orange glow over the room and his face as he sat there. She tracked his gaze to the leaded panes of the window, where a loud lashing of rain pounded against it. She hid he surprise from her face as she demurely circled the bed.

He watched her closely as she did, less a predator than a meek hound wanting his master’s approval. But she did not return his gaze as she wordlessly slid down beside him. As she ruffled the sheets to pull them higher, she noticed his bare torso there beneath, his golden skin glistening, the corded strength lining its way beneath his low sleeping trousers.

“Hello, Lorcan,” she said softly, quickly averting her eyes away from his body, her voice slightly hoarse.

“Hello, Elide,” was his toneless reply as he leaned over to blow out the single candle at the bedside, as if he had indeed been waiting for her to join him.

Elide watched him from the corner of her eye, noting the way his broad hands grasped the wrinkled sheets below, the way the muscles in his arms strained as he positioned himself on his side, facing her. What might those arms look like holding her up above him…what might those hands feel like on her…

Elide turned onto her side so that her back was to him, trying not to let him see the way she panted, the way a warm flush had overtaken cheeks. A week ago, she might have left it at that, might have stemmed the heat between them and silently ordered them both to sleep.

But tonight, there was something different in the air. Something different about the space between them. And she would finally let herself admit what she had wanted to do from the first moment she had climbed into his bed.

She carefully slid her delicate frame backwards until she felt the massive presence of him meet her backside. He said nothing, made no sound. Elide wasn’t sure he was breathing, and perhaps she wasn’t either. But she moved closer still, letting the contour of her body fit in with the curve of his. And she didn’t let herself wonder why it felt so right. She knew. She had always known.

She kept her eyes closed, taking his broad hand underneath her own fine-boned fingers and slowly, so careful and slow, brought them in tandem to her leg, bare beneath that thin linen nightgown.

“Elide,” his rough voice caressed her ear from behind her, hesitant. She felt him try to pull his hand back, to stem this flow of heat that would change them forever.

But she didn’t care. She wanted him; his warmth, his touch, everything. And she was through pretending otherwise, pretending it didn’t hurt, didn’t actually pain her, to be apart from him. Despite the tension between them, despite her fury of the day before.

She wanted him. She wanted more.

She heard his breath seize as she ran their hands upward against her skin, slowly caressing the porcelain skin of her naked calves.

“Elide,” he breathed again in her ear. “What are we doing?”

“Lorcan,” she whispered, eyes still shuttered, still grasping desperately to the vigor his touch elicited in her. “I need you…need you to…” She couldn’t finish as he widened his grip on her leg and she let out a long sigh.

He went as still as Hellas, Death himself, his hand enveloped and completely caught beneath hers.

She felt him lean over, his chin resting on her arm as he watched her. She suddenly could do nothing but pant as the need for his touch grew. She inched their hands upward, to the smooth curve of her naked thighs.

“Please, I need you to touch me,” she whispered, arching back against him and exulting in the feel of him behind her.

His hand was like a dizzying caress, poised to move along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She moaned quietly, biting her lip, urging him more more more.

“Elide,” he said again, and this time she twisted to look up at him. His dark hair had fallen in his face, his mouth a hard line, a frown etched into his brow. Elide trembled slightly as she hoisted herself up and swept the hair from his eyes, folding it gently behind his ear. For a moment, he was motionless as she pressed into him, but then she felt him move closer and bow his head to her, resting his forehead on her shoulder.  

“Elide, I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her skin. “For everything,” It was not the first time he had said the words, but it meant more to her to hear them again, still, than she could say.

“I know,” Elide said, grasping his jaw with her hand, bringing him closer. “I know, Lorcan,”  
There was shame in his face, laced there around the desire that emanated through those black eyes. They were like the expanse of a guttered night sky. Endless and omniscient.

Elide lay there, almost in a trance as she stared up at him. This man she had grown to love more fiercely than she could imagine. Despite it all.

He leaned in closer, not breaking that intense gaze, as their lips met. Nothing would break them apart. Not anymore.

Elide found a hunger as she returned the kiss, one that only grew as the seconds passed. She saw relief, hope, anticipation replace the hesitation in his face each time they broke apart, as he cradled her against him and claimed her with his mouth.

Needing breath, they broke apart for a moment, Elide’s chest heaving, Lorcan’s shirt nearly torn off so that the golden skin of his chest glimmered in the evening light. As the rain continued to pour outside, as the hearth hissed, Lorcan gingerly cupped her thighs again, letting his hands drive farther up under the fabric of her gown, until she felt him mark the curve of her hips, her waist, and finally her breasts, all as bare as her legs. She saw the surprise on his face, as he began to understand what she wanted; what she was asking of him.

She basked in the exhale that blew through him and the way his hand seemed to tremble as it stroked her skin. She could feel his uncertainty, still, hidden there among the longing.

“Don’t stop,” She let the words be demanding, assured, like the person she had settled into. Not timid. Not a prisoner. Not anything but herself.

He hovered above her and bore his stare into hers. “I won’t stop, not until you tell me to,”

“Lorcan,” she sighed his name again as he slowly dragged the hem of her nightgown upward until she was bared beneath him. She tried not to cower before him, so naked and vulnerable laying there in front of this ancient, powerful male.

But there was a softness in his eyes. The patience and understanding that had made her love him. Despite his grumpy act, despite his complaints.

He palmed her breasts, the only truly generous part of her small body, and she let out a yearning whimper. She reveled in the feel of his solid arms cradling her, the weight of him crushing against her. He dipped his mouth to kiss her jaw, her neck, and oh gods her breasts, too. And when his hand ran along the inside of her thighs until they met the place between…it was all she could do not to cry out.

So Elide lay back beneath him, closing her eyes as he touched her, as it brought not relief, but only more and more want.

He shifted so that he was fully above her, moving her thighs to accommodate his body better, not breaking their kiss, not wanting to stem what was between them. What was beginning to emerge.

And when one hand reached down to gently stroke her, she broke from his mouth to groan, such a sound she had never heard from herself. It flustered her, brought color and heat to her cheeks, and she felt almost embarrassed by the sound.

But Lorcan murmured words of reassurance and affection as she softly kissed her neck again. He ran his hands along the sides of her thighs, curving inward to spread them slowly wider still.

“Lorcan,” she gasped as he stroked her there, and she surrendered all focus to the feeling of his fingers’ ministrations.

“Are you alright, Elide?” he asked after a moment of her lying back with closed eyes, gasping like a madwoman.

Without reply, Elide just reached to push his sleeping trousers down and the corners of his lips tugged up, and he looked almost bashful. She tried not to stare too long at his nakedness as she helped him remove every last shred of clothing, though she felt her mouth go dry as her attention caught on the whole of him. Though she had nothing to compare it to…Oh gods, was it possible to die from want?

And some of that shame, some of that fear, melted away into nothing more than the ash in the hearth as she grasped him and urged him onward. More more more.

“Elide,” he sighed with closed eyes, as he let his weight lightly crush into her, their bodies in line but not…quite…

Eagerness replacing her patience, Elide pressed into him, grabbing his neck with both hands to hoist herself all the more closer. She brought her mouth to his, eyes trained on his all the while, and bit his bottom lip, gently and slowly, as she clutched him between her legs.

“Take me, Lorcan,” she begged, voice guttural. “Please,”

The words elicited Lorcan huffed a long sigh, the rumbling sound deep with a craving Elide alone could match, and he pushed into her in one long pulse.

He groaned, a long and deep rumbling sound, as he settled within her, like two pieces finding purchase with each other. She threw her head back again, gasping slightly at the newfound fullness.

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” Lorcan offered, almost desperately, worry furrowing his brow as he paused within her.

“No,” Elide panted. “Don’t stop,”

And he moved them together, rolling his hips slowly, just enough to prompt a deep moan from his throat.

She found that sound he made maddening…she wanted to hear him do it again. Wanted to do things that made him cry out and moan. She clutched onto his back, urging him to crush into her farther. He squeezed his eyes shut in desire and attentiveness as he began that rhythmic moving again. But slowly, so patient and slow.

“Does that feel…good?” he managed to grind out, his voice a hot caress against her neck.

Elide had no words, only could nod and try to form her gasping mouth into a smile, anything to show him what she felt. She saw the recognition in his face as he, too, fought to speak amidst the waves of pleasure.

“I am yours, Elide. As you are mine,” he managed to say, his voice edged with pleading.

Elide captured his mouth again in her own and sighed out, “I am yours, Lorcan Salvaterre. I will go anywhere with you, as you will go with me,”

He stilled inside her for just a moment, long enough to kiss her tenderly and sweetly.

But a sharp buck of Elide’s hips, urging him onward, broke their reveries. Lorcan moaned again, and Elide wondered if she might have somehow borrowed her queen’s gift of flame; for she were near to bursting into flame herself.

He was so large and strong above her, that it was all Elide could do to grasp onto him with her arms and legs as he moved them. He cradled her with one arm, lifting her so that their mouths collided in a fervent meeting of skin and hot breath.

She knew he must be experienced, she would be a damned fool to think otherwise, but it became more and more evident as they embraced and moved on each other. Though he was gentle and patient where it mattered, she let him lead her. And soon she found herself panting with pleasure, overcome by the sensation of it all.

He lifted her legs so that her hips angled upward, wrapped tightly around him, and rested them near his shoulder. The effect was immediate, him suddenly pressing into her that much more and oh gods she thought she might burst or collapse or…or…or

She seized in pleasure, crying out as tremors of pleasure shook through her. A feeling that was both an ending and a beginning.

She cried out, a sound of no words, only pleasure. And he soon followed after.

They broke apart only to gasp and heave in the dim light, marveling at each other, reveling in the feel of where their bodies still connected.

Lorcan rolled over to face Elide after a moment, and took her face in his hands. Wordlessly, he kissed her another time, their eyes an unbroken chain only for each other. And into a deep sleep they fell, wrapped up in one another.

They awoke some hours later, when the rose light of dawn met her heavy eyelids. She was nested in his arms, nearly fully covered by his massive body. They were both still naked, letting the heat of each others’ bodies warm them beneath the thick covers.

Lorcan’s body was heavy with sleep, his breathing deep and slow. She watched him for a moment, not quite believing what they had done. How connected they had become. That now she might call him hers.

Lorcan groaned lightly as he stretched out, releasing her from his grip.

His eyes met hers and the corner of his mouth pulled into a crooked smile.

“Hello,” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep, running his hands along her sides.

“Hello,” she mirrored his smile, arching back to push her body farther against him.

“Did you enjoy that?” the warm brush of his lips at her ear sent more shivers through her.

She just smiled and tried to capture his lips with her own, but he pulled away. She frowned up at him.

“Why don’t you want to you kiss me?” she whispered crossly, though the words came out more vulnerable than she had intended.

“It is not that I don’t want to,” he said, smiling roguishly as he stood up and stretched. “It’s because if I do, I won’t be able to stop,”

And that, it seemed, was good enough for Elide.


End file.
